A True Lady (The first of three Jigsaw pieces)
by PollyVictorian
Summary: Johnny had heard, we assume from his mother, that Murdoch turned the two of them out. Johnny is quite convinced of this, so Maria must have been a mighty good liar. Or perhaps she wasn't lying. Perhaps she was telling Johnny something she herself believed to be true.


Welcome, welcome! Please, sit down. So glad you could accept my invitation. A glass of champagne? We've got an exclusive vintage from France on board for this trip. After all, it's a special occasion. Well, I suppose the first trip of any new riverboat is special, but my partners and I are particularly proud of this one. The finest boat in our line, she is, and the most luxurious vessel on the Mississippi. The fastest too, if she ever put the steam on, but it's her elegance and grace that make her outstanding. A true lady of the river.

The boat's name, you ask? Why, it's in honor of someone I once knew. No, not a sweetheart. Quite the contrary, I was only acquainted with her in the way of business, and that only for a couple of days. It's a long time ago, now, but I've never forgotten her. It happened in California, back in the gold rush days...

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"I hope you've come to tell me it's time to get moving on this job, Clardon," I said, as the man who had lured me out to the tiny settlement in the San Joaquin Valley sat down facing me across the table in the town's only half-way decent saloon. "Three weeks I've been stuck in this Green River. I've outplayed every worthwhile card player in the town."  
"Cleaned out everyone you can cheat, you mean." Clardon's face held a half grin, half sneer.  
"I don't cheat at cards; I'm a gentleman. That's why you hired me, remember?" I pointed out.  
"Yes, I know you can act the gentleman," he answered. "And you'll get the chance to show it soon enough. We go into action tomorrow."  
"Good," I said. "Now, how about telling me what the job is and what you want me to do?"  
"Oh, the job is simple enough," said Clardon. "All you have to do is pay a call on a lady, show her some papers, then escort her to Mexico."  
"Tell me more, in case the lady asks questions."  
"It's simple. Fellow named Lancer, a ranch owner a little way up the valley, has a Mexican wife that he wants to get rid of. He's off in Boston right now and he wants her gone by the time he gets back. No rough stuff, you understand, the woman doesn't get hurt. All you do is show her this document here, and this letter from her husband, then see her safely across the border, back to her own country." He passed me an envelope containing two sheets of paper. One was a decree of divorce, the other was a letter. He went on:  
"That letter from Lancer tells his wife to go along with you, so you should have no problems persuading her."  
"Why have we been hanging around here for so long?" I wanted to know.  
"I've been keeping an eye on the Lancer ranch, waiting for the best opportunity. There's a foreman who might have given some trouble but he's come down with yellow fever, so he won't interfere and apart from him, there's only a bunch of vaqueros and their wives at the ranch so the way's clear. Besides, it's given the good people of Green River a chance to get to know you." He gave that half grin, half sneer again.

I wondered why a foreman might interfere in something his boss wanted done. It sounded fishy. Even fishier were the contents of the envelope. For a start, the divorce decree was phony. Clardon didn't know it, but I'd studied law in my better days, and knew a genuine legal document from a fake one. Then the letter was written on a sheet of paper identical in size, texture and color to the phony decree. Coupled with the fact that the fact that Clardon was known as the best forger in Sydney Town, the authenticity of that letter was decidedly open to question.

But it was none of my business. I'd agreed to do the job and I was getting good money – very good money – for doing it. Which brought me to my next question:

"When do I get paid?" If Clardon said: When you get back from Mexico, I'd walk out of the saloon with only enough backward glance to be sure he wasn't pulling his gun. I was desperate for money but not a fool. But he answered:  
"When you get back here with the woman."  
"So we come back through Green River first, then head to the border?"  
"That's right. And make sure you drive right through the town, slowly, so all the folk can see who's with you. Mr Garrett was very particular about that."  
"Garrett? I thought you said the man's name was Lancer?"  
"Mr Garrett is arranging it all on Mr Lancer's behalf, including the money. He's the one Lancer's visiting in Boston. I suppose he wants to spare his friend the unpleasantness of turning the woman out himself." Clardon's grin was getting on my nerves.  
"She's likely to kick up a fuss. Any woman would."  
"Not this one. She's from one of the old Spanish families. You know the type – their dignity is everything to them. They don't even read through a business contract before signing it – they think it's too vulgar."  
I knew what Clardon meant. To a Mexican don, examining a contract would be like doubting the other party's word, something a gentleman would never do. I could only hope this Mrs Lancer would have something of the same attitude.

She did. When I got to the ranch house and asked for Mrs Lancer, I was shown into a large, elegant room where a lady received me graciously. I could well believe Clardon was right about her background. She had the look of an aristocrat and a manner that reminded me of the people I used to mix with, back in the days when I was something better than a gambler with one foot on the wrong side of the law. I told her I had come under instructions from her husband and handed her the envelope.

I braced myself for an outburst but none came. As she looked up from the letter, for a moment I glimpsed the devastation in her eyes but she only said,  
"Will you be kind enough to wait while I make my preparations? I will have refreshments sent in." I nodded and she left the room. Presently a servant brought me some coffee and cakes. A man who'd come to take a woman away from her home was, as good manners demanded, being treated like a guest.

When Mrs Lancer came downstairs, dressed for travelling, she held a little boy by the hand. This was something I hadn't expected, to have a child along. He couldn't have been more than two years old, if that. But Doña Maria – in my mind I couldn't help giving her the title due a high-born Spanish lady – didn't appear to even consider leaving him behind. I needn't have worried; Doña Maria wasn't from the class that would tolerate bad behaviour from their children. When I had helped them into the buggy that Clardon had bought with Lancer's – or Garrett's – money, she sat him up beside her and, too young to realize anything bad was going on, the kid enjoyed the ride. As for his mother, she sat quiet and dignified as we drove off Lancer. If she shed tears, no-one was going to see them.

As we drove slowly along the main street of Green River, every passer-by stared, but Doña Maria looked neither right nor left. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead and made sure the little boy did the same. We stopped for a minute or two while I got my share of the money from Clardon. When I came back to the buggy, I swear she hadn't moved a muscle. As we drove out of town, more people stood and stared. I think the whole district would soon know that Mrs Lancer had driven off with a man Green River knew as a come-by-chance gambler. I can only guess that Lancer wanted to blacken her reputation but I wonder if he gave a thought to what it would do to his own – he'd be down as a man whose wife had run off and left him. But like I said before, it was none of my business. I'd do the job I was paid for.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Well, I took her and her little boy to Sonoyta, just across the border in Sonora – she had friends there, she said – and saw them into a comfortable hotel, then headed east. Mr Garrett was letting me keep the buggy and team as lagniappe. I wound up in New Orleans. I'd heard the riverboats offered good pickings for gamblers and when I set out I was intending to try my luck on them. But somewhere along the way, I changed my mind. I think it was the time I spent in Doña Maria's company that did it. She made me feel like a gentleman, as only a real lady can. She made me remember the man I'd once been, and made me want to be that man again. I met a couple of fellows who were starting up a riverboat company and needed another partner. The money I'd been paid by Lancer – or Garrett, whichever one had been footing the bill – was enough for me to buy in. You know the rest; we built up the company until now it's one of the biggest running on the Mississippi, and my partners and I are among the most respected, and respectable, businessmen in the country.

I don't know what became of Mrs Lancer and her little boy. It wouldn't have been wise or safe for me to try to find out. But I felt I'd like to pay a tribute to her; that's why I named this finest boat of ours the _Doña Maria_ – after a true lady.


End file.
